Taking Steps
by captaindove
Summary: What would happen if, instead of waiting around for her to get back from Star City, Clark went after Lois?


**Title:** Taking Steps

**Author:** Paloma

**Secret Santa:** Chione

**Rating:** NC-17. But only just.

**Summary:** What would happen if, instead of waiting around for her to get back from Star City, Clark went after Lois?

**Author's Note:** All right, first of all, I know lots of people hate stories written in present tense. To that end, I really, really tried to write this one in past tense but it just wouldn't let me. So I hope my Secret Santa isn't one of those people or that if she is, she'll try to look past it just this once.

This fic is set post-Bride and contains some spoilers for episodes (8x11) Legion through (8x15) Infamous, although only my very loose interpretations thereof. After seeing the Legion trailer *cough* I wanted to fix some things for myself, and so several scenes from it are included in this story and are actually some of the first parts I wrote. I hope you'll like my spin on them. You'll also see a snippet taken from the Infamous casting sides.

Thanks so much to hero and Sepideh for checking this over for me!

Lastly, this came to 25 pages in Word, so for me at least, it's long. Sit back, get comfy.

* * *

The coffee's getting cold.

Okay, so Clark's willing to admit that maybe he'd jumped the gun a little, arriving here at seven o'clock as he had. Never mind that in the months he's been working side by side with Lois at the Planet he's known her to arrive before seven-thirty a total of two times. But he hadn't been able to sit still at home, had been awake since five a.m. and had figured waiting in line for the coffee would eat up a good portion of the morning. Of course, when he arrived at Lois' favourite coffee shop it was for once nearly empty, and he got their drinks within a matter of minutes. Superspeeding with them was another matter entirely, and he gave up and walked the rest of the way to the Planet after several near-accidents.

He has no idea what he's going to say to her. It's been three weeks since Christmas and they've only talked on the phone once since then. He has a sneaking suspicion she's screening his calls, and he's been tempted to just run back down to Star City and bring her back with him this time, but he's forced himself to be patient.

But she's back of her own violation now, and he knows she'll be at work today because she left him a short message on his voicemail, sounding nervous but excited, which is exactly the way he feels. The mere fact that she took the time to let him know she was coming, instead of just waltzing into the bullpen randomly one morning as he'd half-expected her to, makes his heart race.

Clark drums his fingernails on the desk, glaring at the rapidly cooling coffee (which is _not_ a metaphor for his relationship with Lois, he tells himself firmly) and then he looks around, checking surreptitiously to make sure no one's watching before taking off the lids and focusing his heat vision on the drinks until they start to bubble. Satisfied, he replaces the lids and sits back to wait for her.

* * *

_Three weeks earlier._

He's not sure what he's doing here. When Lana asked if they could have coffee together he agreed without really thinking about it – after all, they're both pretty much alone this Christmas. Chloe's in a coma after being cured of her Brainiac infection by the Legion (and he's still trying to wrap his head around _them_), Jimmy and Lois are in Star City, and Ollie's holed himself up in his Metropolis apartment, saying only that he doesn't do Christmas. Clark suspects it has something to do with his parents, and doesn't enquire further.

Lana's staying with Nell in Metropolis but they go to the Talon for coffee, just before closing time and when Lana offers to lock up for the girls, they're left all alone in this place that holds so many memories.

They make small talk for a while, and Clark marvels silently at how strange it is, Lana's soft voice fading into the background as his thoughts turn inward. They were never really close friends before they were together. He'd always had an extremely obvious crush on her, even when she was dating Whitney, and the times they've broken up they've either been at odds or apart entirely. He doesn't quite know what to say to her when it isn't platitudes of love, and the days for those have come and gone.

She's as beautiful as ever, and although the short, curled haircut is different, she's dressed like he remembers from the year before, in white. She looks fragile to him. Her voice goes on, talking about the Isis Foundation, and his thoughts continue to drift. She sounds happy, at least…

He's been feeling strange all week, like there's somewhere he needs to be, but maybe it's just all the nagging worries in the back of his mind. Chloe seems cured, but he won't know for sure until she wakes up, Jimmy's still in intensive care… and Lois isn't returning any of his phone calls. It's frustrating, really. He still can't believe he'd been about to kiss her at Chloe's wedding. Not because it's something he's never thought about doing (on the contrary, the thought haunts him with more frequency than he feels strictly comfortable admitting), but whenever he'd imagined it, they'd always been alone. And maybe that was the problem. Next time, he'll make sure there's no one else around and then there won't be any interruptions. He's still cursing his selective hearing, and Chloe's loud voice.

He'd called Lois as soon as Chloe was safely in the hospital, and it was one of the few times she'd actually gotten back to him instead of leaving a message at a time she knew he wouldn't answer. And he didn't fail to notice the emotion in her voice when she thanked him. One five minute conversation and she's completely taken over his thoughts, and now he finds himself continually going over the last few days and weeks in his head, telling himself he didn't imagine all those telltale signs. He still remembers her telling him to look for someone a little less sweet vanilla and a lot more wild cherry, and now he's almost sure she was referring to herself. A smile tugs at his mouth at the thought and Lana gives him a speculative look.

"You've been doing that all evening," she says, a little wistfully. "You're a million miles away, Clark."

_More like a thousand,_ he thinks, trying not to calculate the approximate distance to Star City in his head, but out loud he just says, "I guess I have a lot on my mind."

She nods slowly, never taking her eyes off of him. "I bet you do. Have you spoken to Lois lately?"

His head snaps up. "What?" _Is Lana a mind-reader now?_

She looks down at the countertop, tracing patterns on it with one manicured finger. The smile on her face is a bit rueful. Ever since Chloe was cured and the first thing Clark did was whip out his cell phone to tell Lois, she'd had her suspicions. She'd seen his face fall when Lois' voicemail picked up and watched him stutter his way through leaving a message with a slight sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Of course he's gotten on with his life, it's no less than what she'd asked him to do, but it's still jarring. Her words from nearly five years ago suddenly ring back at her, mockingly.

"_After everything we've been through, I thought it would take us longer to move on." _

_They're standing in the Kawatche caves, and Clark looks taken aback. "Us?"_

_She nods. "Yeah, you and Lois."_

He'd denied it then, sounding startled and maybe even a little too defensive, saying that Lois was bossy and stuck up and rude. He'd said he couldn't stand her. But Lana was right then, and now she's positive.

"_The best ones always start that way."_

She can see it clearly now, in the way that he speaks about her, or more often the way he doesn't speak, and his mind seems to be elsewhere. "I can tell you miss her," she says, willing herself back to the present.

His eyes steadily grow wider, and he wonders if he's really been that obvious about it. But he can't deny what's so conspicuously true, he thinks about Lois most of his waking hours, and as for when he's asleep…

Lana looks a little nostalgic. "Clark. You've never been good at hiding what's in your heart. Especially not from me."

He doesn't know what to say. This isn't a conversation he ever expected to have with Lana. "It sort of snuck up on me," he finally admits in a low voice. "I think everyone clued in before I did."

That makes her laugh a little. "That's not surprising. We see what we want to see."

They're silent for a few moments while he absorbs that. "I never meant to make you feel like you had to be perfect," he says after a time.

She smiles around the sudden tightness in her throat, shrugging one shoulder. "It's okay. I should never have let you think I was."

They both understand.

She leans forward and places a hand on his chest. "It's really over this time, isn't it?"

_After everything we've been through, I thought it would take us longer to move on._

Clark nods, and then she's moving closer and she touches her mouth to his, softly, tenderly. It's not a kiss of longing, or passion; it's goodbye. So he kisses her back, knowing it will be the last time he ever does, and it's both sad and sweet. He's glad they can part this way.

They pull away from each other and Lana looks up at him, eyes bright with unshed tears. "I want you to promise me something, okay?"

"What?"

"Don't spend the rest of your life alone. Just because we didn't get our 'happily ever after' with each other doesn't mean we can't find it with someone else."

Clark looks troubled. "Lana, I don't know if I could ever put someone through that again. You know how hard it is to be with me when I'm… the way I am."

She nods. "Clark, the world needs you. I understand that. But…" and she hesitates for a second, unsure if she can say it. In the end, she has to. "But you need her. Don't you?"

For a split second, Clark thinks about playing dumb, pretending he has no idea what she means, but he can't bring himself to. "Yes," he says softly. "I think I do."

Lana sits down at one of the tables and folds her hands in her lap. "Well then, what are you waiting for? Go get her." She smiles bravely up at him. She isn't surprised, not really.

Clark looks at her for a long moment. "Thank you," he says. And then he's gone before she can even blink, leaving only his empty mug and the gust of wind that stirs her hair as evidence he was ever really there to begin with.

*

Clark's halfway to California before he realises he has no idea where Ollie's house in Star City is. He quickly turns around and heads back the way he came.

It doesn't take him long to reach Oliver's Metropolis apartment, and soon he's stepping out from behind the metal grilles of the elevator, already speaking. "Hey, Oliver, listen, can you give me the address of your place in Star City?" he asks quickly, not even giving the other man time to greet him back.

All the curtains are drawn and Ollie's sitting at his desk with a drink in his hand, but Clark doesn't comment. He'd been expecting something like this after Ollie's terse "Never mind," the last time Clark tried to ask about his holiday plans, and he doesn't push.

There's a moment of silence during which Ollie stares at him, and then his face splits into a broad grin. "It's about time you went to see her," he says, getting up and clapping Clark on the back.

Clark flushes. "I don't… it's not…"

Ollie shoots him a look. "It's not? Save it, Clark. You don't have to worry about sparing my feelings." He takes a slip of paper off his desk and scribbles an address on it. "Word of advice – don't screw it up. I'd hate to see her get hurt." The warning in his tone is clear.

Clark looks at him for a moment, understanding written all over his face and then he nods seriously. "So would I."

Ollie's stern expression fades back into a smile and he hands him the slip of paper. "I'd try the hospital first, if I were you," he advises.

Clark leaves, wondering if the holiday spirit is getting to everyone after all. First Lana, now Oliver. He thinks that Jimmy would probably approve too, if he were awake.

On his way through Utah, Clark's sensitive hearing happens to pick up on the sound of screaming and screeching tires above the roar of the wind and his own thoughts. He hones in on it immediately and follows the sound in time to stop a yellow school bus from careening off of a bridge and into the water below. Before anyone can get a good look at him he blurs away, leaving a small sea of confused people milling about in his wake. He'd cut it close, and he really does have to be more careful in case someone gets another picture of him, but Clark runs on with a smile on his face. _This is what making a difference feels like._

Maybe it's superstitious of him, but he takes it as a sign.

*

As per Ollie's suggestion, he goes to the hospital first, but she isn't there. Jimmy's nurse informs him that she was here earlier, and will probably be back again before the day's over, if he wants to wait, but he declines, saying he'll be back tomorrow.

_He has to find her, now._

It takes about fifteen seconds for him to get to Ollie's, superspeeding so fast he's surprised he isn't leaving burn marks behind him on the concrete, but when he gets there all the lights seem to be off, and he presses the buzzer with a sinking feeling in his stomach, not really expecting an answer. Unsurprisingly, there isn't one.

What the hell is he supposed to do now? She could be anywhere, and he doesn't know the city well enough to even narrow it down. Besides, he has no idea where she'd go. But just standing there is driving him crazy. Maybe if he goes for a walk she'll be home by the time he gets back. It's as good an idea as any, and certainly more productive than waiting around. So he sets off, not really paying attention to where his feet are carrying him. Maybe he can figure out what to say to her when he does find her.

He wanders aimlessly for what seems like hours, oblivious to the occasional admiring glances that come his way as he trudges down one crowded sidewalk after another. Awash in a sea of strangers, they all blend together, faceless and nameless because none of them are the one he's searching for. He needs to find her, to say all the things that have been boiling up inside him since Chloe and Jimmy's wedding, so many things that he's afraid once it's really time he'll choke over his own words, but he has to try.

He plods on, hands shoved in the pockets of his dark coat, head down, letting himself get lost in the sounds of the city around him. So much life, so many voices and sounds crowding his head, but not the one he wants.

He hears the hum of car engines, the clack-clack of high heeled shoes on concrete, a steady rhythm somewhere in the distance, snatches of music, and many, many voices, all drowning each other out.

"_Billy, I told you I don't-"_

"_Whatever. Don't listen to her-"_

"_But Mom, that isn't fair, you said I-"_

"_Shh. It's okay, we're-"_

He has to stop for a moment and physically pull his hearing in to make the confusion stop, so there's nothing but silence, and then he slowly lets the sounds filter in as they please, hearing everything but not listening to the individual words, letting it all wash over him until he can't distinguish one sound from another. He has trouble remembering what it was like when he heard the way a human does. He probably never did, his ears have always been sharp, but his hearing has developed by leaps and bounds since then, along with his control over it.

_Where is she?_

He walks on, his steps falling into an easy rhythm, one that matches that faint, steady beat in the corner of his mind. It's pleasant, almost familiar. He checks his watch - it's been half an hour since he left Ollie's house and he's no closer to his goal. He hadn't really expected to find her this way, but it still dampens his spirits. This is not what he wants, this endless waiting while he just walks and walks to the beat of the steady thudding in his ears. It's a little louder now, enough to make him aware of its presence, but he doesn't tune it out, because it's a strangely comforting sound. It brings some calm and order to the deluge of noises all around him.

His footsteps carry him toward the ocean, he can hear the sound of the waves behind the other things now, very faintly, and he follows it. The thudding is even louder, and he's sure he's heard it before if he could only remember [i]where.[/i] He comes into view of the wharf, he can see the long dock extending out into the water in the distance, and the sight tugs unexpectedly at his heart. Growing up in Kansas, he's not too familiar with the ocean, but he loves it. He wonders if Krypton had oceans or if it was all blanketed in frozen ice.

When he reaches the dock he spies someone far away at the other end, and a shock goes through him. Even if he couldn't recognise that profile anywhere he'd know it was her because she's sitting on the rail, not standing on the dock like any normal person would, and suddenly he knows exactly what the sound in his ears is. It's her heartbeat.

He can't even move for several seconds, unable to believe he's actually found her. She's leaning into the wind, wearing capris, of all things, and a dark red sweater, and he has to physically force himself not to run over and kiss her senseless. Instead he walks steadily closer, listening to the rhythm of her heart and wondering how he could've gone a day without hearing it.

She's facing out, toward the ocean, and he can only see one side of her face, strands of dark hair whipping around it in the breeze and he stops about five feet away, aching to reach out to her. "Lois," he says instead.

She shrieks (quite possibly the girliest sound he's ever heard her make) and her hands slip from their position on the rail, caught completely off guard by the last voice she expected to hear, and he realises in a moment of terrible clarity that she's going to fall right into the water if he doesn't catch her _now._ His arms are around her in less than a second, pulling her safely down and placing her back on the dock and for a few seconds she just stands there with her back pressed flush against his chest, heart pounding, letting his arms wrap protectively around her.

But then she whirls around to face him, pulling away, and he reluctantly lets go. "What the hell are _you_ doing here?" she demands. Never mind that he just saved her from a very unpleasant impromptu swim – she would never have needed saving if he hadn't shown up as he had, apparently with the sole intention of scaring the crap out of her.

It's not exactly the response he was hoping for, but she doesn't look angry exactly, just surprised and utterly disbelieving, and still on edge from nearly falling off the dock. She's breathing hard from the rush of adrenaline, eyes wide and hair decidedly windswept, framing her face in tumbled waves. He steps determinedly toward her, and stops just a shade too close. He can see it register in her eyes, in the way the frantic tempo of her heartbeat speeds up even more and she takes a half-step back, maybe without realising it.

"I came to see you," he replies a bit hesitantly. Has she always been this beautiful? Her cheeks are pink and he wonders if it's from the ocean air or his presence. "It's Christmas Eve."

"Oh!" She exclaims, his words not doing anything to calm the furious racing of her pulse. "Christmas. Right! Yeah, about that – I didn't get you anything. I mean, it's not like I'm even that into the holidays, especially this year, but if I'd known you were coming I'd at least have gotten you a scarf or, I don't know, some Calvin Klein perfume or something-"

He cuts effectively through her babbling by stepping closer again and putting a hand on her arm. "It's okay, Lois," he says, smiling a bit at her evident nervousness. "I didn't get you anything either."

"Oh." Her eyes dart quickly to his hand, and then back to his face. There's a moment of awkward silence before she rushes to fill it. "I'm, uh, not exactly a barrel of laughs right now, with all that's been going on. Sure you want to spend Christmas with such a downer?" Then she looks horrified. "Not that I assume you're staying. You're free to leave, anytime you want, of course!" She winces. She sounds like an idiot and it's all his fault. She hopes he can't tell how just how disconcerting she's finding his sudden appearance.

Judging by the smile on his face, he has an inkling, but he just says, "I'd like to stay. If it's all right with you, that is."

A thousand questions, a fair amount of them involving the word "Lana", flit through her mind but she can't quite bring herself to ask. She squints at him a little; head cocked to the side like she can't figure him out, and then shrugs, a reluctant smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "I guess that'd be okay," she says, turning back to the view beside them, and he laughs and hugs her, properly this time. Presses a swift kiss to the top of her head before he loses his nerve and tries not to let her know how deeply her tiny gasp, quickly stifled against the front of his jacket, affects him. He holds her tightly, unable to believe how good it feels just to have her in his arms, until she laughs nervously and swats him away, giving him a strange look.

"Well," she says quickly, "I don't know about you but I'm getting a serious chill out here in all this fresh ocean air. Why don't we go to back to Ollie's and see if we can get warmed up?" She nearly groans out loud and wants to kick herself for the unintentional double meaning, slight as it is. But Clark just grins a little and says that sounds good to him, and they leave, avoiding each other's glances whenever their shoulders accidentally brush as they walk.

*

There's nothing at Ollie's in the way of foodstuffs (though he has an expensive-looking kitchen with lots of shiny stainless steel) aside from Rice Krispies and a bottle of vodka in one cupboard, much to Clark's horror.

"There was more when I got here," Lois tells him, sticking her tongue out at him when he rolls his eyes. "I guess this means we're going grocery shopping, Smallville. Just let me change and we'll head out." And she saunters out of the room, shooting him a smirk over her shoulder.

Clark can't hold back the smile that threatens to take over his face as he watches her leave, and suddenly it feels a lot more like Christmas.

She emerges a few minutes later (and that's something he's always found refreshing about her, the ability to change quickly) still dragging a comb through her hair and wearing jeans now with a long-sleeved forest green shirt, and he wonders when she had time to pack clothes or if she had Ollie bring her a suitcase. He's certainly been shuttling back and forth between Star City and Metropolis enough recently, and seeing much more of Lois than Clark has been. Until now, that is.

With that in mind, Clark finds her jacket (thrown over the back of the couch) and helps her into it, and they head to the nearest grocery store on foot.

They opt for a cart instead of a basket once they get there, and wander up and down the aisles trying and failing to ignore the domesticity of it all. Or at least, Lois does. Clark rather feels like embracing it, but he knows better than to say so.

Lois has to be dragged away from the candy section, fully stocked with holiday treats, but not before she can snag a few and drop them into the cart. "Lois," Clark says exasperatedly at one point, prying a box of chocolates out of her hands for the fourth time and putting it firmly back on the self. "We should be buying real food, not junk. It's Christmas Eve!"

She rolls her eyes at him. "Yeah, so you keep saying. Are you planning on cooking, Smallville? Because I know you don't want me to do it."

He only has to think about it for a second. "Sure. I can cook."

She looks a little impressed despite herself. "I guess that doesn't surprise me. You were raised by Martha Kent, after all," she says, shrugging. "By all means, cook for me. I won't mind."

The smile on Clark's face is decidedly flirtatious now, and he takes a step closer to her. "I'll do that then." And then he's sidling past her into the next aisle, leaving her blinking bemusedly under the fluorescent lights.

_What just happened?_

They manage to do the rest of the shopping without incident, and walk out of the store laden with bags, though Clark significantly more so than Lois. "We're never going to eat all of this," he says around a bag. "Just how long are you planning on staying in Star City, exactly?"

She looks uncomfortable. "Until Jimmy wakes up, at least, and can be moved… or when…" and her throat closes up a little, "Chloe can come and get him."

He registers the emotion in her voice with a pang and it reminds him of the night they parted in the hospital. At least he'd been able to hug her then, and promise her that he'd make everything all right. And they have gotten Chloe back, that much is true. But everything isn't all right, not yet. He feels bad for Chloe and Jimmy, spending their first Christmas together as newlyweds in hospital beds in separate states. He'll make sure it's different with him and Lois…

That thought shocks him enough to bring him of his musings; just in time to realise they've arrived at Ollie's gate. He follows Lois up the short driveway, glad she can't see his face.

*

Lois helps Clark unpack the groceries and then sits on the counter to watch as he peels potatoes, setting a pot of water on to boil and pre-heating the oven at the same time. They chat about nothing in particular as he works, falling easily into the familiar banter that's always come almost instinctively to them.

At one point Clark puts the knife down and pulls her unceremoniously off the counter, plunking her down in front of a cutting board and instructing her to make herself useful. When she glares at him he just grins impudently.

"I'm not doing all the work, Lane." The sleeves of his black shirt are rolled up to his elbows, baring his muscular forearms and he looks really, really good. She wonders vaguely if the room is hot from the oven, and mentally chides herself. [i]Off limits![/i] Her mind screams, in spite of all the evidence that seems to point to the contrary, such as the fact that he's _here_, on Christmas Eve, cooking her dinner like it's the most normal thing in the world. And now he's reaching around her from behind to set the pot of boiled potatoes in front of her and she has to remember to breathe. "You can mash potatoes, right?"

And she'd turn and glare at him for that except if she did, she'd be about a millimetre away from his lips and just thinking about it makes her knees feel weak. What is the _matter_ with her? This is _Clark Kent_, brooding, flannel-wearing farmboy extraordinaire, only he looks decidedly flannel-less right now, and that big smile isn't helping her sanity either. She's gotten glimpses of this playful side of him before, but now she's seeing it in full force, and it's hard to resist.

He puts the potato masher in her hands and moves away to make the stuffing, occasionally coming over to offer pointers, and laughing when she just glares at him. She's not sure if she's ever seen him this relaxed and carefree before.

_Is it because he's here, with her?_

She doesn't even want to think about the possibility. She's sure it isn't that. He's just getting really into the holidays this year, that's all.

They sit side-by-side at the counter instead of at the table to eat, Lois making no attempt to hide her appreciation for the food. She's been living off of takeout even more than usual. What's that proverb about winning a man's heart through his stomach? She thinks maybe it applies to her, too.

After dinner Lois makes coffee, glowering when he looks horrified at the prospect of drinking anything that comes from her hand, and she informs him that it's one of the few things she is in fact capable of making before shoving him bodily out of the kitchen.

Clark knows – she did work at the Talon, after all – but it's too hard to resist that outraged expression, not to mention the way she manhandles him like no one else does. But he tries not to go too far down that train of thought, because he'd really prefer to be presentable when she comes in with their drinks.

They sit on the couch with their mugs and listen to Christmas music on the radio, and Lois takes him by surprise and sings along with some of the songs (Santa Baby, mostly, which sends Clark into fits of laughter) and then she's getting up and dancing too, totally unselfconsciously, and he can only watch her, fascinated. He doesn't think he's ever met someone so completely, vibrantly _alive_ before, and it's intoxicating. She has a beautiful voice, something he can't believe he didn't know before, and he lets her pull him up off the couch and even joins in singing, not caring in the slightest how ridiculous they must look.

He's missed her light-heartedness, he realises. She has the ability to enjoy life no matter how bad things get, and it's something he admires. Working side by side with her five days a week, he sees the professional side of her more than he ever has before, and he likes it, but he misses the other sides of her too. The Lois here with him now is a lot like the one he remembers from when they first met, wearing jeans and not taking anything seriously. It's the same Lois who ruffled his hair in the dunk tank and more recently twirled around his living room wearing nothing but his football jersey, singing Whitesnake at the top her lungs. He'd been surprised even then at how good her voice was in spite of how much she'd had to drink.

The music's still playing in the background, but he's hardly even listening to it anymore, his eyes glued to her. He watches her lips move, forming words that fall on ears that might as well be deaf, because the only thing he's listening to is her heartbeat. It speeds up when he meets her eyes and he thinks he might be getting addicted to it.

When did he start to fall for her? Was it when he caught sight of her coming down the stairs in that burnt orange dress, and he'd been unable to tear his eyes away for what felt like a full five minutes? Was it when she smirked at him and warned him that she didn't pay attention to curfew and never made her bed? Maybe it was a thousand times before and since, all he knows is that the way he feels when he's with her is different from anything else. She drives him completely insane sometimes; with her brash attitude and her 'rules of reporting' and the way she knows exactly how to push all of his buttons. She's one of the few people he's raised his voice to when he wasn't high on Red-K, and he still doesn't quite understand what transpired in the minutes after she caught him with Maxima in the elevator at the Daily Planet. All he'd known at the time was that he had to make her understand that it wasn't what she thought.

He's spoken to her about his soul mate being right in front of him and not realising it, and the irony isn't lost on him now. He doesn't know if they're "destined" for each other, he just knows that loving her feels right. And so he steps toward her and takes her hand like he did at Chloe's wedding, and he knows this is it. He's going to kiss her, for real this time, and the smile disappears from her face to be replaced by something more serious. He doesn't say anything, there's plenty of time for that later. Just as he's about to lean forward and close the distance between their lips, his phone rings.

He actually groans out loud and drops his head, but digs it out of his pocket. It's late; whoever's calling better have a damn good reason for it.

Lois is standing there, shell-shocked, unable to believe they just got interrupted _again._ The universe is clearly conspiring against them. Maybe they're doomed and they should just give up while they're ahead.

The caller ID reads "Lana Lang" and Clark sighs. Of course she'd call now. Because this is _exactly_ what the situation needs. He wonders if Lois is rubbing off on him, if even his thoughts are sarcastic.

The woman in question is looking away, her face assuming a mask of indifference. "You better answer that, Clark. It might be important."

He wants to say something, he wants to throw the phone out the window and kiss her even more, but she's right, so he just flips it open. "Lana? This actually isn't…" his voice trails off and then a big smile lights his face, making Lois' stomach drop. "Really?" He looks positively overjoyed now. "That's great!" He listens intently for a minute. "Yeah, I'll make sure of it. Merry Christmas, Lana." And he hangs up, looking at Lois with an expression of wonder on his face while she tries not to feel queasy. "Lois, Chloe just woke up."

It's the last thing she expects to hear, and her eyes go instantly wide with shock. "What?" She sinks down onto the couch, feeling wobbly and hoping she won't do something stupid, like start crying.

Clark's nodding happily. "I know! You can't tell me you don't believe in Christmas miracles after that. Lana says she's fine and she wants to see us both."

Lois just sits there with her head in her hands for a few seconds, hoping she'll be able to get herself under control before he notices anything's amiss.

But it's too late; he's sitting down next to her and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay, Lois?"

Her eyes slide away from his and she blinks and swallows hard in an attempt to stave off the tears. This would all be a lot easier if he didn't insist on being so damn sweet to her! She'd been doing just fine before he showed up; had even managed to half convince herself that whatever it was between them had been a misplaced, momentary spark borne of mutual loneliness and the romantic atmosphere of the wedding. But now he's here, right here with her, sitting so close their knees are touching, his gaze full of tender concern and a tear runs down her cheek before she can stop it.

Before she can even reach up to wipe it off, Clark leans forward and cups her face in his big hands. "Hey," he says. "I didn't mean to make you cry." And he smudges the tear gently away with his thumb. "This is good news, Lo. Chloe's going to be okay."

At that the tears begin to come in earnest, even as she shakes her head. "No, no, I know it's good… I am happy. It just caught me off guard." She looks embarrassed to be caught in such a vulnerable moment.

He tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "You were really worried about her, weren't you?"

She nods, not trusting herself to speak, and he wraps his arms around her, ignoring her (admittedly weak) protests until she's settled comfortably on his lap. His large hands rub soothingly up and down her back, and her tears fade quickly into warm contentment as he holds her. "It's all going to be okay," he says in an undertone. "I've got you."

She can feel his chest rumble when he speaks, and closes her eyes. There's something incredibly comforting about being encircled in his arms. It's frightening at the same time, and completely at odds with her fierce independence to let him see her this way, but she feels… safe. Protected from everything as long as she can feel his heartbeat against hers, as long as she can close her eyes and breathe in the scent of him, her face buried in the crook of his neck. She's never known anything like this, rarely had anyone hold her just for the sake of it, innocently and without expecting anything from her except that she hold onto him as tightly as he's holding onto her.

He listens to her heartbeat slow until it dawns on him that she's fallen asleep, and then he makes to get up, thinking that he'll put her down on her bed. But she makes a little mewling sound in her sleep and clutches on to him tightly, and he can't bring himself to move her yet. He settles himself on the couch more comfortably. He'll just sit here for a few minutes until she's more deeply asleep, and then he'll bring her to her own bed. Until then, he'll just rest his eyes for a second… only a second…

He falls asleep that way, her head pillowed on his chest, his arms still locked tightly around her.

*

He wakes up in the predawn when the first few slivers of sunlight creep across his eyelids, blowing her hair off of his face and smiling like a fool. In spite of the awkward position, he's never slept so well in his life. He stands up with her cradled securely against him and quickly x-rays the house to locate the room she's staying in. He carries her up a flight of stairs, doing his best not to wake her, and down a dark hallway until they reach her room. He holds her against him with one arm as he pulls back the covers and then sets her down, tucking the soft blankets securely up to her chin and leaving her with a lingering kiss on the cheek that brings a smile to her still-sleeping face before he wanders back down to the living room. He's never going to get back to sleep now.

*

Lois ambles into the kitchen several hours later looking scrubbed and clean and wearing yoga pants and a tank top, hair still wet from the shower. "Ugh, I hate sleeping in jeans," are her only words to him, and she immediately goes to the fridge in search of food, pulling out a carton of milk and grabbing the Rice Krispies down from the cupboard.

After a minute she notices him staring at her and narrows her eyes. "What is it?" She looks down at herself. "I didn't spill cereal on myself did I?"

Clark smiles and shakes his head. "No, it's just… you look pretty decent first thing in the morning." Of course, he'd thought she looked pretty decent last night too, flushed with sleep and sprawled out in his lap with her hair flung all over him, but he's not about to tell her that.

She gives him a long, sweeping look over her shoulder, and then raises an eyebrow. "You too, Kent."

His grin widens, if that's possible, and she shakes her head at him. "I assume you're leaving today. You have to go give my cousin a hug for me."

He looks as if he wants to protest, but she cuts him off. "Please, Smallville? I've got to stay with Jimmy for a little while longer, but you can go see her now and make sure she's really okay. And you can say hi to her for me."

Clark nods, understanding, and even though he'd like to stay there with her, he can't deny her anything. "Okay. I'll go. But she wants to see you too, Lois." He looks into her eyes. "And so do I."

She fidgets a little under the intensity of his gaze, trying not to blush. "I'll get there as soon as I can. I don't want Jimmy to wake up with no one there to welcome him back to the land of the living." Her eyes dart to his and quickly away again.

*

He leaves her on the doorstep with a hug and a firm hand under her chin, forcing her gaze up to meet his. "Promise you'll come home soon," he says.

Her heart pounds (it seems to happen a lot lately) and she swallows heavily before answering. "I promise," she says with a shaky smile, and he turns away with a final piercing look, satisfied for the time being.

She watches him go, an inner voice screaming at her to run after him and say something, anything, but she doesn't. She just stands there until he turns a corner and she can't see him anymore and then she closes the door and leans against it, wondering how the hell she's going to make it until the next time she sees him.

_All right, Jimmy. Now would be a great time to wake up._

* * *

_Three weeks later._

He's been trying to tune out her heartbeat all morning, with limited success. In a strange way it feels like spying, but at the same time he's grateful to have a convenient way to tell whether or not her life is currently in danger, which is a much more frequent occurrence than Clark really feels comfortable with. It seems like every time he turns his back for more than a minute she's found some new danger to sink her teeth into. Now he figures when that happens her heart rate will skyrocket and he can superspeed off to make sure she isn't hurt. He just has to take care of that pesky little detail commonly referred to as "his secret" first.

But her heartbeat doesn't just increase when she's in danger. He knows now that just his proximity is enough to send her pulse racing, and his in return. Just a shade too close and the slow, steady thudding increases to a rapid tempo… almost like it's doing now…

He whips his head around in realisation, and there she is. A huge, idiotic grin spreads over his face and he closes the distance between them in three strides, crushing her to him fiercely. She hugs him back a trifle uncomfortably, and when he pulls away but doesn't release her, her eyes widen a little and she just stares at him, a smile starting to form at the corners of her mouth.

"Hi," Clark says, unable to wipe the answering smile off his face simply because she's finally _here_, in the flesh, and he can touch her and hold her and…

"Hi," she replies, cutting off his thoughts and looking a little shy. It's possibly the most endearing expression he's ever seen, and it takes a massive amount of effort for him not to just attack her lips right then and there. They just look at each other for a few moments more, the air around them all but humming with electricity, and then she pulls away, clearing her throat. "We should get to work!"

"Work?" Clark repeats dumbly. _What?_

A little of her customary snark comes back at that, as she sits down at her desk and turns on her computer. "Yes, Clark, _work._ You know, that thing where we get paid to chase down interesting stories and then write about them?" Not giving him a chance to reply, she carries on, "you know, a couple of years ago I never would've thought I'd hear myself say this, but I've really missed the newsroom. Not that I didn't keep myself occupied while I was away, but it's just not the same as actually being here."

"Well by all means, stick close to home," Clark says, and this time his smile carries a hint of teasing. "I won't mind."

She looks up from her computer at that, frowning. "Clark…"

He cuts her off. "Uh uh uh…" he takes a step closer to her. "I know what you're going to say, Lois, and we _are_ going to talk. Not now, but we will. Okay?"

She lets out a shaky breath. "Okay. Later we'll talk. But now we've got to get to work. Do you still have those files Jimmy compiled for us on all the "Red-Blue-Blur" sightings so far?" She says the name complete with air quotes.

Clark nods a little nervously and starts sorting through a drawer in his desk. "They're somewhere around here. I'll find them, just give me a sec."

"You know, we have got to get that guy a catchier name," Lois is saying, paying no attention to him. "Oh! And did you know there was a sighting recently in Utah, of all places? Yeah, apparently a mysterious 'someone' stopped a busload of kids from nearly plummeting off a bridge near Salt Lake City. It has to be him, don't you think?"

The smile on Clark's face is apprehensive at best, and he hands her the folder she wants without making eye contact. "Yeah, it must've been. You're really onto something here, Lois."

_He has to tell her_.

She flashes him a cocky grin before turning back to her computer, already absorbed in it. "I think so too. Now let's get cracking," and he doesn't even try to talk to her again until lunchtime, when he has to all but drag her away from her phone long enough to grab a bite to eat with him. He knows she's been away, but maybe there's more to the sudden upgrade in her work ethic (which didn't need upgrading, in his opinion) than a desire to get back in the groove.

He watches her all day, acutely aware of every second they're in the same room, and he feels a bit foolish. He's known her for years, and her presence has never affected him quite this much before. All he can think about is the fact that he should've kissed her before he left. He'd wanted to, a thousand times while he was in Star City, and it's his own fault for not seizing the opportunity. He's been berating himself the entire three weeks since then, but now that she's here it's becoming distracting. Her desk is right across from his, and while she's not at it that much, when she is she's literally close enough for him to reach out and touch her. It hurts just to think about it, because she's hardly looked at him all day, and he has no idea what's going on in that head of hers. Has she completely written him off? She did call him to say she was coming back…

Clark is thoroughly confused, and his eyes follow her unashamedly everywhere she goes, trying to figure her out.

At about four-thirty Clark sees his opportunity. Lois is walking into the copy room with a stack of files, and after a quick x-ray to make sure it's empty – it is – he hurries after her.

She whirls around when he closes the door behind him and locks it securely. "What do you think you're doing, Smallville?" She demands, hugging the files protectively to her chest. Her eyes dart around the room, searching in vain for an escape.

Clark can't help the slightly predatory smile that curls up one side of his mouth, and he takes a step toward her. He feels like it's all they do, step and retreat, dancing endlessly around each other, and he's determined to put a stop to it. "I'm not letting you run away this time," he says.

She bristles. "I'm not running away from anything, Clark. There's nothing to run away from!" And she starts to push past him.

He steps quickly in front of her. "Is that really what you think this is? Nothing?"

She stares at him. "I don't know! You tell me. What is it?"

There's a sudden rattling sound behind them, and someone's banging on the door, shouting through the glass. "Hey! What gives, Lane? Open up!"

Lois turns toward the door, and there's a short silence while Clark holds his breath. "Copier's broken, go upstairs!" She calls after a moment, and his heart starts beating again.

There's an audible sigh from the unfortunate soul outside the door, and Lois turns back to Clark, looking somewhat nervous and still clutching the files tightly.

He knows this is his big chance. This time, no one's going to interrupt them. "I missed you," he says honestly. It seems as good a jumping off point as any.

Her face softens a little at that. "Course you did," she says, but in a milder tone of voice than she'd normally use under such circumstances. She looks a little vulnerable, standing there still holding the papers, and it makes his heart ache.

"Lois, this…" and he gestures between them, "whatever this is, _neither_ of us are sure yet. But we both know it's there. You can't deny that."

She opens her mouth and then closes it again, biting her lip and looking cornered.

He takes a step forward and even as she automatically takes one back she can tell she's running out of room behind her. "You know, you seem to be invading my personal bubble a lot lately, Smallville," she says a little breathlessly.

He reaches out and plucks the stack of files out of her hands, setting it down on the copy machine behind him without once breaking eye contact with her, and he's not smiling anymore, just looking at her intently. He reaches out and lets his hand trail down her jaw, thumb coming to rest on the hollow in her neck where he can see her pulse racing. "I'm about to do it again," he says, and then he leans in and kisses her, and her arms come up to wrap around him automatically as he pulls her closer to him. She's kissing him back before she can convince herself it's a bad idea, her tongue exploring his mouth eagerly and he growls against her lips, taking another step forward so she's pressed firmly between him and the wall.

She gasps in a big lungful of air when his mouth moves down to her neck, her eyes closing in bliss and she lets her hands roam over his broad shoulders. Now she really feels like she's home, and the thought reverberates through her mind even as she tilts her head up so Clark can kiss her again. God, he smells good, like soap and maybe a little like hay, although she could be imagining that part, and something else that's just uniquely _Clark._

He finally pulls himself away and gazes down at her, feeling winded. "So what do you say?" he asks, grinning.

She punches him in the chest, lightly. "I think that was a fairly obvious yes, Smallville, but just in case there's any doubt in your mind…" and she pulls him swiftly forward by the tie, kissing him firmly before releasing him.

Before he can formulate a response, she smoothes her hair and sails out of the room, hips swaying provocatively in her black pencil skirt. "We've still got work to do, Kent!" She calls over her shoulder. "I'm serious about getting that interview!"

He stares after her, trying to catch his breath.

_Oh, right. That._

* * *

He only has to knock three times before he hears the numerous locks on her door opening in rapid succession and then she's wrenching it open, wearing jeans and a yellow t-shirt and a big smile that calms his nerves just a bit. Maybe she'll take it well. Maybe.

"Hi," she greets him. "Come on in," and she gestures him into her apartment with a tilt of her head.

He steps inside and she closes the door, making sure all the locks are locked before turning to him and moving into his arms. His hands descend immediately on her waist and he smiles as she reaches up to kiss him, letting her arms wrap around his neck while he pulls her closer and she sighs in contentment. He wants to kiss her forever but he has to tell her before he loses his nerve, so he pulls away. "Lois, I have to tell you something."

She nods, eyes alight with curiosity. "So you've said. Spill, Smallville."

He hesitates, stepping away from her a bit. "Uh… can we sit down?"

She looks perplexed but acquiesces. "Sure." She takes his hand and leads him over to the couch, sitting down and looking at him expectantly while he struggles to find the least shocking opener.

After a few seconds he takes a deep breath and looks her straight in the eye. "Lois," he says, heart pounding furiously, knowing this is it, the moment, he's about to tell her everything and there's no taking it back. "I'm the Red and Blue Blur."

Her eyes go wide before narrowing in suspicion. "Are you serious?"

"Yes," he says evenly. "Please, just let me get this all out and then I promise, you can ask all the questions you want."

She doesn't look angry, but he can almost see the wheels in her mind turning at a frantic pace, piecing everything together as he continues, telling her about the meteor shower and all his powers, from x-ray vision to superbreath, and she demands a demonstration at one point, whereupon he lights a candle on the other side of the room with his eyes, making her clap a hand over her mouth. He doesn't hold back a single thing. He tells her about Krypton and his birth parents and the Fortress (and her eyes nearly bug out of her head at his description of the ice palace) while she just takes it all in, keeping her questions to herself even though he knows she must be bursting with them.

She's silent for a disconcertingly long time once he's finished, and Clark feels like his insides have been turned to lead. What if this changes everything? What if she decides she can't share him with the world, like she did with Ollie? A dozen different scenarios, each worse than the last, flash before his eyes while she just looks at him, her expression totally unreadable.

Just when Clark thinks he can't take it any longer and he'll die of impatience, she speaks. "Well I'd ask if you look this human everywhere, Smallville, but I already know the answer to [i]that[/i] one," she says, completely deadpan.

Clark gapes at her for several seconds, completely floored.

His stunned expression is too much for her and she can't hold back the laughter that bubbles up. How is it that keeping Clark on his toes is so entertaining?

His smile in response is blinding, and before she can process what's happening, he's kissing her through her laughter, his hands everywhere; stroking her cheek and her hair and sliding down her arms to lift her effortlessly onto his lap.

She quickly loses all desire to laugh, moaning at the feel of his warm hands on the small of her back, and she grips his shoulders tightly, her tongue coming out to trace his lips and roof of his mouth. He tastes like apple pie and a bit of the laughter comes back, muffled against his lips. Of _course_ he tastes like apple pie, she thinks absurdly. She feels dizzy and dimly wonders when the last time was she took her mouth off of his long enough to actually inhale oxygen, and apparently he has the same thought, because he tears his mouth away with obvious effort and rests his forehead against hers, breathing hard.

"You're really okay with this?" he asks, like he's afraid to believe it could be true.

She shrugs eloquently. "You're _you_, Clark. Even if you are from Mars."

"Krypton," he corrects her.

"Whatever." And she's smiling at him now, hazel eyes bright and completely devoid of any of the anger or disgust part of him had been afraid of. "Clark, you have all these incredible gifts that, theoretically, you could take use to take over the world, and you choose to help people on a daily basis. Even if I hadn't already been your friend for years that would tell me everything I need to know about you. I can't pretend not to be surprised, but I understand why you didn't tell me before. It's a big secret to keep."

He looks a little troubled then, and she can almost read his thoughts as she takes his face in her hands. "And just so we're clear… I'm glad you told me. And I promise, your secret's safe."

The look on his face makes her heart clench, it's as if she's just given him an incredible and unexpected gift with her simple words. He looks overcome, and when she tightens her arms around him and presses herself closer she can feel him shaking with the release of tension. She just clings to him for several long seconds, revelling in the feel of his big, solid body against hers until the tremors stop and something else takes their place. She scoots backward a little on his lap then, and takes one of his hands in hers, inspecting it carefully, fingers sliding along the contours of his wrists, his knuckles. "Well, aside from being freakishly huge," and she shoots him an impish grin, "your hands are normal. Soft, for a guy who lives on a farm, but I guess you don't get calluses, do you?"

He shakes his head, a little breathless, and for God's sake, she's touching his _hand_, and it shouldn't feel as good as it does.

She raises it to her mouth and kisses his palm, making him inhale sharply and she feels his body tighten against hers. She smiles and does it again, letting her mouth wander up the inside of his wrist this time, while his eyes burn into hers.

She lets go, looking satisfied when his hands descend immediately to her hips and his jaw clenches tightly. "I have a question," she says conversationally. One hand begins to stroke in slow circles across the fabric of his white shirt.

"What do you want to know?" Clark asks a little distractedly, most of his attention focused on the gentle movement of her hand. She's barely even touched him and he's already so hard he's having trouble paying attention to what she's saying.

Instead of answering, she unbuttons the top button of his shirt, smirking at his start of surprise. Only then does she look up from her ministrations. "What I want to know," she tells him, voice dropping lower as she leans in, "is... do those super-senses of yours extend to touch?" She undoes another button.

Clark's sure she can feel the rapid beat of his heart against her palm as she continues to rub him in excruciatingly slow circles. His gaze drops to her mouth, where the smile's disappeared, and he thinks that he's never seen her look quite this way before. He's seen her focused, plenty of times (they work together after all), but the rapt, almost dreamy expression she has on her face now is something new entirely. "Yes," he whispers, and her smile's back.

"Good." And she leans forward to kiss the smooth skin of his chest. Can't help but moan softly at the feel of his warm skin against her mouth and the hard muscle underneath, and she never realised until now how badly she's always wanted to do that.

He can't hold back the gasp that rises to his lips at the feel of her mouth on him, and he's never thought of his chest as an erogenous zone before this but she's starting to change his mind. She undoes another button, every motion still so unhurried he wants to scream. But her mouth is opening against his chest, warm lips sliding down, down, as she continues to undo his shirt until it's completely open, and then she's tugging on it, patience having apparently worn thin, muttering, "Off," against his skin and he's more than happy to oblige.

They manage to get his shirt off in record time, leaving him in just his black slacks, which do nothing to hide the evidence of his arousal, and Lois thinks that she'd almost be content just to look at him for hours. Almost. But no, not when she has the option of touching him like she does now; not when he's pulling her closer, hands digging into her hips, his tongue eagerly seeking entrance to her mouth. She parts her lips with a quiet groan, quickly cut off. His hands slide up her back, grasping at the fabric of her t-shirt and then he [i]rips[/i] it in half like it's made of paper, tossing the ruined pieces over his shoulder without even pausing to stop for breath, kissing her like he's starving.

When his hands go to her bra she stops him, ignoring the disappointed frown that appears on his face when she climbs off his lap. It fades quickly away when her hands go to the zipper of her jeans and he sits back, one side of his mouth curving up in a smile. "I'll do it," she tells him softly.

And it's absurd, because it's not like it's the first time she's done this, but she feels almost shy as she stands in front of him. Not even naked yet, but she might as well be. He's seen more of her than almost anyone else has, and not just because of that one time he caught her coming out of the shower. Clark's one of the few people who's seen her cry, who's held back her hair while she vomited and tucked her up on his couch with a blue blanket afterward and a kiss on the forehead she only dimly remembers. He's met the General (and she'll never forget the look on his face when he first heard her call him "Daddy"), he's even experienced Lucy so he knows what a failure she is as a role model, and still he's sitting there half-naked on her couch looking at her like she's the only woman he's ever seen. And she knows he's one of the few people who really sees _her,_ the person behind the bold, sarcastic exterior. Every vulnerability, everything she has is laid bare for him and she's startled to realise she wants it to be. She wants him to see all of her.

He bites his lip as she slides the denim down her legs, his eyes following her every movement and his hips thrust involuntarily toward her, sending a shock of arousal through her body and she has to close her eyes for a second before she can think again.

They open to his intense stare, and his eyes rove over her hungrily, taking in every inch of bare skin and wispy lace. He clears his throat then and grins up at her, looking a bit amused. "Pink," he observes mildly, the appreciation in his eyes obvious.

She shrugs and tries not to blush, because these happen to be some of her favourite underwear. She tosses her head, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and reaches back to unclasp her bra, her gaze never leaving his. When she lets it fall to the ground his hands tighten their grip on the couch, making it creak ominously. She catches a brief flare of red in his eyes before he squeezes them tightly shut, blinking a few times and shaking his head as if to clear it before looking back at her, pupils dilated dramatically. She grins and steps closer, so she's standing between his legs. "Do you like pink?"

He reaches out like he can't stop himself and pulls her to him, one arm snaking around the bare skin at her waist and she shivers in response. His other hand comes up to cup her breast, watching with eyes so dark they look nearly black as her nipple hardens against his thumb. "I like pink very much, Lois." His voice is nearly an octave lower than usual and when his head drops forward and his mouth closes over her breast she gasps at the intensity of it. She's never felt desire like this before. Every touch, every _glance_ is burned into her, and she melts willingly into his arms as his kisses trail up her collarbone and her neck. He holds her up as though she weighs nothing, and it's something that's turned her on from the very beginning, more than she'd ever admit.

The kisses turn almost to bites against the soft flesh of her earlobe and she actually cries out, arching tightly against him, but his reaction isn't at all what she expects. He stiffens and pulls away from her, looking terrified. "Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?"

She laughs a little incredulously, shaking her head. "Definitely not, Smallville. Do it again."

But his expression grows anguished and he lets his hands drop. "But Lois, I could have. With my abilities I don't know what could happen if I… and I'd never forgive myself if I hurt you. I can't ask you to take that risk."

"You don't have to ask. You won't hurt me." And her hands tangle in his thick hair as she kisses him, effectively stemming his protests. His arms wrap around her instantly, against his better judgement, and he kisses her back before he can stop himself, sucking her bottom lip into his mouth.

"Besides," she says breathlessly when he lets her come up for air, "a little pain doesn't have to be such a bad thing." And she bends her head, nipping his neck sharply. "Can you even feel it?" she asks.

He considers the question as best he can with her teeth and her tongue doing the things they're doing against his fevered skin. "Uhh… yes. I can definitely feel it. Not the same way you would," he answers finally. "It doesn't hurt; it just sort of… stings. Oh God, please don't stop…"

Her hands are sliding down his abdomen now, tracing the rock-hard muscles there, flirting around his belt buckle, everywhere but. "I wasn't planning on it," she answers, kisses dropping lower until she takes his nipple into her mouth and he jerks hard against her.

"Lois…"

"If you tell me stop now, I'm going to slap you." She's kissing him everywhere she can reach, his chest and neck and shoulders and she never, ever wants to stop.

That earns her a laugh and he shakes his head, terribly afraid but also sure that he's never wanted anything like he wants this. Like he wants _her_, every part of her, not just the physical (though God, definitely that) but he wants to fall asleep with her in his arms every night, he wants to wake up beside her every morning, and so it's the most natural thing in the world for him pull her closer and whisper, "I love you."

Her mouth goes utterly still over his collarbone and he wants to kick himself. He shouldn't have just blurted it out that way. He should've done it properly, like he'd wanted to in Star City and every day since then and now he's gone and ruined…

His thoughts trail off at the huge smile that appears on her face. "You love me?" she repeats. Her eyes are wide and extra-bright, and it reminds him of the way she looked for a split second before Chloe and Jimmy's wedding, when he was reading Jimmy's vows. Only this time it lasts, and the tender expression only grows warmer instead of flickering quickly away. He'd give anything to see that look on her face every day.

"Yeah," he affirms, a smile playing around the corners of his mouth. "I love you. You know, I'm surprised you hadn't figured it out already," he teases. "Some investigative journalist you are."

She punches him in the shoulder at that. "Shut up, Smallville, and kiss me again."

His mouth is on hers in under a second, kissing her hungrily, tongue coming out to outline the contours of her mouth before slipping inside, and she wants nothing more than to unzip his pants and just let him sink into her, but she wants to be comfortable when she does it. "Bedroom," she mutters around his mouth, standing up with difficulty and tugging on his belt to pull him after her.

They stumble down the hallway, knocking into things and paying zero attention because nothing matters right now except this, the frantic need to lick and taste and know every inch of each other and Lois isn't even sure where the door is anymore, let alone how she's going to take her hands off him long enough to get it open.

She doesn't have to worry, because he's hoisting her up with one strong arm, his solid frame pinning her against the wall, the other hand groping clumsily for the door handle. They fall through the doorway in a tangle of limbs, laughing now around the messy, frenzied kisses and Clark picks her up again, carrying her over to the bed and tossing her none too gently onto its soft surface, making her yelp with surprise.

He stands over her at the foot of the bed, broad frame illuminated in the moonlight and she's glad the curtains aren't closed, because otherwise she wouldn't be able to see him at all. As it is, every plane of muscle is thrown into sharp relief and she's reminded of another dark night years ago only, if she recalls correctly, he was even more naked then. "Take your pants off," she says, and even in the semi-darkness it's easy to see his broad grin.

"Bossy, aren't we?" But his hands go to his belt buckle and he takes it off with deliberate slowness, paying her back for her earlier tricks. Her mouth goes dry as he unzips his pants and steps out of them before shedding his boxers too, and this time she doesn't even try to make herself look at his face. Her tongue comes unconsciously to wet her lips as she stares at him, and he groans, his cock jerking with need.

She bites her lip. "I guess Smallville really isn't that accurate after all."

He'd be flattered, but she's staring up at him with the cinnamon waves of her hair fanned out around her, wearing nothing but a scrap of pink lace, her mouth red and swollen from his kisses and it's difficult to think, he wants her so much. She arches up, hands reaching out blindly toward him.

"Clark, _now._ I want you now."

"Okay," he says. And suddenly he's looming over her, his big body enveloping her and the room suddenly seems much darker. He lowers his head and kisses her slowly, his tongue exploring her mouth while she grinds urgently against him. He twines his fingers into one of her hands but she moves the other one before he can take it and reaches down to stroke him. He jerks and gasps when she runs her thumb over the head and his hand comes to grasp hers. "Lois, wait."

"Wait? Are you kidding?" And she pumps her hand slowly up and down the length of him. "I'm on the pill, if that's what you're worried about."

He bucks helplessly into her hand, and then he's wrapping his fingers around hers and together they guide him inside her. He keeps a firm grasp on himself, setting the pace, pushing into her with that same aching slowness. She shudders as her body stretches to accommodate his size and finally he's all the way inside her, as deep as he can go. "Are you okay?" he whispers, fighting to control himself.

She nods. "More." And that's all she can say as he begins to move slowly inside her, the dormant power radiating off his body, but he keeps it just barely in check, and she can only lie there quivering for long minutes that seem more like hours. It's not enough. Her voice is muffled against his mouth but she manages to gasp out, "Clark, _more_, harder, please…" and mercifully he understands, and his hips begin to thrust against hers with more force, pushing her into the soft mattress. Her eyes roll back in her head at the sheer ecstasy of him filling her, and he growls low in his throat, kissing and licking her neck, her breasts, everywhere he can reach. Her legs come up to wrap around him, and even though she wants it go on forever, she's already so close she can tell she's not going to last much longer.

Clark knows it too, and he takes her chin in one hand and forces her to meet his gaze just like back in Star City. She looks intently up at him, wanting to memorize his expression when he says, "Look at me when you come. I want to see your face." And he thrusts suddenly, deeply _in_, his eyes never losing contact with hers as her inner muscles spasm around his cock and she cries out in orgasm, thrusting up as hard as she can and it sends him over the edge too, he's coming and all he can say is "I love you," again and again as their bodies slide together, and all he can think is that he wants to do this ten times a day for the rest of his life.

He rocks gently against her afterwards, riding out the aftershocks of their shared climax and she makes a sound that can only be described as a purr, kissing his shoulder when he flips them over so she's lying on top of him and a smile creeps suddenly over her face. Cracking one eye open, Clark notices and raises his eyebrows enquiringly. "What is it?"

Lois bites her lip to keep from laughing. "I was just thinking that I love you too… Superman." And a chortle escapes despite her best efforts.

His eyes light up at the first part of her sentence and he grins hugely at her before the second part seems to register and he makes a face. _"Superman?"_

She nods around a yawn, looking pleased with herself. "You know, the more I think about it, the more I like it. Better than Smallville, right?" And she lets her head sink down to rest against his chest.

He chuckles into her hair. "As long as no one else hears it. Can you imagine being called something like that on a daily basis? I'd never hear the end of it."

She falls asleep before she can answer, cradled against his chest with him still inside her, his arms around her, and it's like nothing she's ever known. She breathes in the scent of him surrounding her and she dreams bright colours; blue, and red, and her heart soars, beating securely against his.

*My prompt sentence was _"Yeah, about that – I didn't get you anything."_


End file.
